Red
by Luckysee12
Summary: "Where. Did. You. Get. These. Cuts." Matthew couldn't think of any more excuses. "Have you been cutting yourself?"Ivan asked softly. Matthew sighed and nodded. "How long have you been doing this?" "Six years" "Why Matvey?" T for self harm RusCan Oneshot


Red. Red. Red. Red with black. Red with white. Red was a beautiful color. Matthew watched as red swirled down the drain. His blood had only gotten in the bathtub this time. That was good. He didn't like having to clean blood off of the shower curtain.

Matthew looked at his left arm. He counted the cuts. One, two, three, four, five… he cut himself five times, on just one arm this time. Matthew watched as red ran down his arm, and seeped through his fingers. It dripped into the remaining water. Matthew scooped some water up with his other hand and poured it on his cuts. It hurt of course, but he just gritted his teeth.

Someone banged on the door. "Yo, Mattie hurry up! I gotta use the bathroom!" Matthew sighed. Sometimes he regretted renting an apartment with his brother, but it was much easier to just pay half the rent. He was already draining the tub, so all he did was step out. He quickly toweled off, being careful to not rub against his new cuts. He slipped on his boxers, and then his pants, not bothering to button them.

Damn, he forgot to grab a shirt. He looked at his cuts. They were already healing, and had stopped bleeding. He decided to just put his towel over it, as if he were just carrying it, not hiding his cuts, placing the razor in the folds of it. He opened the door. "All yours, Al." He said, stepping out of the way. Alfred ran past into the bathroom, no idea of what his brother had just been doing.

Matthew went up the stairs to his room. His room was an average collage kid's room. Creamy white walls, barely seen beneath hockey posters, a red carpet. He had basic furniture; a bed, an end table and a desk. The bed had a red comforter on it, and white sheets. The end table held a cell phone, a few books, and his glasses. Matthew picked his glasses up and put them on, brushing some of his wet, wavy blonde hair out of the way.

He went over to the desk, his backpack and school stuff piled on it. He pulled open a few drawers until he found the right one. He took out the black plastic case inside. He put down his towel, and grabbed the razor. He put it in the case, in its little compartment. He went through the case and found a roll of white gauze. He wrapped it loosely around his cut, fastening it with a paper clip. He ran out of the clips he usually used, so a paper clip would need to work until he could go to the pharmacy.

Matthew zipped the case back up and put it back in his drawer. It would come in use again later. He glanced at the clock on his desk. 9:42. Matthew sighed. Might as well go to sleep. He turned off his light, and then flopped down on his bed, lightly wincing when he rolled on his left arm. He looked up at his ceiling.

Matthew couldn't help but think, as he lay awake. How long had it been since he first started cutting? About five years? Six? Six seemed right. Since he was a high school freshman. He was in his second year of college now.

Why did he start? To feel real. He wasn't noticed in high school. He was forgotten. Unless someone thought he was Alfred. Sure they looked similar, but their personalities were very different, and if you looked for it, they were actually not even that similar.

He started cutting. He got used to the feeling of rejection. During his junior year of high school he started to be noticed, not even as Alfred, but as Matthew. He wasn't nearly as social as Alfred, but he had his handful of friends. But the cutting never stopped. It was his habit, his ritual. Now that he was in college, he still had those friends and a few he had picked up along the way, and was happy.

But he still cut. He didn't let anyone know. The whole six years he had been cutting, no one knew. Matthew wasn't planning on anyone ever knowing. He'd stop sometime, right? He could get over the habit, right? His habit was getting worse recently. He started to cut more often, and nearly collapsed from blood loss several times. Every time he told himself 'never again.' But he did it again, anyways. He didn't want to kill himself; no he just did it for release.

Matthew's eyelids began drooping, and he finally shut them, falling asleep.

~{The next day}~

Matthew had just finished class and was on his way to the coffee place down the street from the college when he heard someone yelling his name. "Mattie! Wait up!" Matthew stopped at looked over his shoulder. His brother Alfred caught up with him, and put his hand on his shoulder. "How did you get so far so fast, dude?" Alfred flashed his brother a smile. "I'm magic, Al. I'm heading to the coffee shop, you coming?" Alfred grinned even wider. "Of course dude!"

They made their way down the street to the coffee shop. It was called 'The Grey Man Coffee Shop'. The 'Grey Man' was one of their favorite places to hang out. "Hey you guys!" Yelled a familiar voice. "Oh, hi Gilbert." Their albino friend came out from behind the counter and greeted them. Gilbert and his brother Ludwig worked at the 'Grey Man' because their grandfather owned the place. They weren't very busy at the moment. "Gilbert!" Ludwig yelled. "Get back to work!"

"But West!" Gilbert argued. "We aren't busy! And they're customers!" Ludwig sighed. "Fine, you can go talk to them, but just for that you have to take out the trash." Gilbert stuck his tongue out at him and turned back to the brothers. "So, guys, what's up?" "Nothing much, really." "Yeah, we came to get some coffee and stuff." Alfred supplied. "Oh, yeah, I'd suppose so, we ARE a coffee shop. What type?" Matthew smiled. "Black, a little sugar. Like usual." Alfred made a disgusted face. "Ew, gross dude. I don't know how you can drink black coffee. I'll have a cappuccino." Gilbert nodded and went behind the counter and began to brew their drinks.

Matthew and Alfred sat down at one of the tables, and shrugged off their coats. Gilbert eventually came over and gave them their coffee. They just talked, until a group of their friends came into the shop. "Hey, guys! Sit over here!" Alfred yelled to them, earning a glare from Ludwig. Francis and Antonio ignored him and went to talk to Gilbert. They laughed and then left, off to some party probably. Arthur, Ivan and Kiku came over to the table. "Sup British dude!" Alfred waved to Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled a chair from the next table over to the table. Kiku and Ivan did the same. "So, what are you guys doing?" Alfred asked while he poked Arthur. "Quit that. We came for coffee, obviously." "Great minds think alike." Matthew said before he sipped his coffee. "I still can't believe you would drink black coffee, pretty much straight." Alfred stared at his brother. "I like the burn. Better than dumping a cartload of sugar in it." Matthew drank some more of his coffee, and Alfred blanched. "That's still gross. Right, Arthur?" Arthur rolled his eyes and didn't reply. Alfred pouted. "Right, Kiku?" Kiku nodded. "I agree with you." Matthew sighed. "I'm outgunned." He smiled, "But I'm still not going to stop drinking black coffee." Alfred groaned. "You're so stubborn Mattie." "Look who's talking." Arthur replied. The rest of the conversation went on between Arthur and Alfred, while Ivan and Kiku just watched and Matthew finished his coffee.

Arthur stood up. "I should get going. Kiku, don't you have to go to work?" Kiku looked startled, and then looked at his watch. "Ah! Yes, I do. Thank you for reminding me." Kiku rushed out of the shop. Arthur was followed home by Alfred who insisted that 'as a hero, he should walk Arthur home'. That left Matthew and Ivan. Matthew had finished his coffee, so he stood up and threw away the paper cup. "I should go too. I'll see you later Ivan." Matthew gave him a shy smile and a small wave, before heading out the door. No one was out of the street, and it was later than Matthew had thought it was. _Brrr…Why is it so cold?_ Matthew started trudging home. He was almost to his street when he heard his name being called. "Matvey, you forgot your coat."

He was almost turned around when his left arm was grabbed. Matthew shrieked at the unexpected contact. His hoodie's sleeve had been draw up when he jerked, and the bandages covering his cuts had unraveled, plainly showing the fresh cuts. Matthew saw this and tried to pull his sleeve down, but Ivan stopped him. "Matvey. What is this?" He demanded. His violet eyes looked straight into Matthew's also violet eyes. Matthew stuttered, trying to think of an excuse.

"I-it was a ki-kitchen mishap!" He tried to tell him. Ivan was obviously not buying it. "This is not from a kitchen accident. Where. Did. You. Get. These. Cuts." Matthew couldn't think of any more excuses. Ivan wasn't pleased that Matthew wasn't answering. "Have you been cutting yourself?" Ivan asked softly. Matthew sighed and nodded. "How long? How long have you been doing this?" Ivan said, even softer. "Six years." Ivan's eyes widened. "You've been doing this for _six years_? Why Matvey?" His voice was edged with hurt. Matthew couldn't answer him. Ivan pulled the boy to him, hugging him. "Why do you need to do that? There are people here for you."

Ivan pressed his lips to Matthew's forehead, just resting. Matthew started to cry. He couldn't even explain why, he just knew he needed to cry. It _hurt_. Ivan seemed to understand, and just held him. Ivan held him until Matthew seemed to run out of tears. Matthew looked up at Ivan with red-rimmed eyes. "T-thank you Ivan. For being here." Ivan smiled lightly. "I'm always going to be here for you Matvey." He leaned down and kissed Matthew gently. Matthew closed his eyes, and let Ivan kiss him. Ivan seemed to know just the right time to pull away. "Matvey." Ivan said, his voice softened. Matthew smiled, and rubbed one of his eyes. Ivan smiled at him back, with sincerity.

As the months passed by, Matthew had stopped cutting, and Ivan was seeing him more and more. Matthew smiled more often, and Ivan was happy to see him like that. Eventually Ivan asked him out to a movie, and Matthew had said yes. Ivan didn't even remember what movie it was, he was focusing on the boy next to him rather than the screen. Ivan had to say it was one of his most enjoyable times in his life. They eventually started going out more frequently, and just hanging out, even if it didn't amount to more than sitting on the couch and talking. They talked about everything, what happened that day, that annoying person on the bus, their favorite flowers, the weather, the way Matthew's hair had a stubborn curl, the reason why Ivan always wore a scarf, and just their lives together.

Ivan and Matthew moved in together, and had their own house, in Canada. Ivan asked Matthew to marry him, and Matthew said yes. They were married, and the theme was red. They had a girl, Lilya Vera Williams-Braginiski, by a surrogate mother. They watched Lilya first ride a bike, go to school, her first dance, graduation day, first day at college, and her wedding day, when she married Peter Kirkland. Matthew cried, and Ivan smiled as they both gave their little girl away. They grew old together and were there when their daughter gave birth to their grandson, Phoenix Kirkland. At the end of their lives, they died hand in hand, no regrets. Every flower at their funeral was red.

**A/N: The reason it's called the 'Grey Man' is because that's an anagram for Germany. Clever huh? And Phoenix means 'dark red'. I hope I ended this ok. It seemed sort of meaningless if I didn't describe their lives afterwards. I hope this didn't cliché too much. And yes, their daughter marries Sealand. Please leave a review!**


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